


Trying to See Inside Your Head

by leaves_girl



Series: Torn and Mended [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Gen, Post-Torn And Frayed, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leaves_girl/pseuds/leaves_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Either Sam is missing a few pertinent details, or his brother is insane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying to See Inside Your Head

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after 'Torn and Frayed.' It also takes place directly after my fic 'Standing on Your Bones,' which you may want to read first. (Or not. Sam hasn't read it, either.)

Separating from Dean was hard for Sam, mainly because it drove his brother crazy. Case in point: Cold Creek. Dean chose one year together and then an eternity apart in hell and torment, instead of say sixty years apart and then meeting up for forever in heaven. Sam firmly maintained that it had been a deeply stupid decision, even before the big Righteous-Man-Sheds-Blood-in-Hell reveal.

Another example: his brother had sucker punched him after Sam got possessed. No warning, just “Hey, Dean, what’s going on?” BAM! “Oh, you were violated by a demon and killed someone. I’m sure you’ll handle it much better with an aching jaw.” Same thing when he snuck off to confront Amy: he opened the door and landed on his ass.

But while those had been among the most painful, they were far from the strangest. Way back after that case with the orchard god, Dean wouldn’t play Zeppelin for a solid month. Absolutely no reason given. And when they’d met up again post Amy-killing-reveal, Sam found an honest-to-god brother-themed mixed tape that Dean had snuck into his duffle.

So Sam wasn’t exactly surprised when his brother called back five hours after Sam had hung up on him and feigned amnesia. That didn’t mean he was happy about it.

“What do you mean, ‘where the hell am I’? Kermit Texas, where _you_ sent me, remember?”

“ _Right, right. You sound angry._ ”

“How could I possibly be angry? You just-“

“ _I just wanted_ -“

“-prank called me in the middle of a hunt-“

“- _what was best for…what?_ ”

“-tricked me into abandoning a fellow hunter, who then got eaten by your new best bud. You said he was harmless.” Sam wasn’t even ready to talk about what it had done to him to see Amelia and Don living a normal life.

“ _Right. Listen, I’m really sorry. How about I go pick you up? You stay right there and I’ll bring one of those coffee-flavored free-trade syrup drinks you like so much._ ”

Lattes were Dean’s apology of choice, and his brother had even choked out the actual words. Only, they hadn’t sounded choked at all. It reminded him of the time Dean had apologized for accidently shooting an octogenarian’s poodle, even though in truth he had shot the chupacabre that had eaten it. His mouth said “Sorry,” but his tone said, “Sure, honey, I’ll play along.” Sam bristled.

“If you’d listen to two words I said before starting a fight, you’d know that I don’t _want_ to stay here, Dean. I don’t belong here anymore.”

“ _You shut your damn mouth, Sammy. You goddamn belong…oh, you mean in Texas? Sure, whatever. I’m in Louisiana. Want to meet up in Shreveport?_ ”

That wasn’t suspicious at all. Sam took a moment to wonder whether his brother had been possessed, or replaced with a shapeshifter or a leviathan. Then he shrugged. Best to meet up either way. “Yeah, alright. I’ll be there in ten.”

“ _You driving the speed limit now, Sammy?_ ”

“Sure.” And stopping to buy borax, but that was better left implied.

 

* * *

 

It was the reunion at Rufus’s cabin in reverse, Dean trying for a hug this time, and Sam the one splashing his outstretched hand with borax. “ _I know it’s you,_ ” he remembered explaining, only that had been a load of bullshit, hadn’t it? He hadn’t known it was his brother. He hadn’t even thought it was his brother. He’d just hoped, desperately and without reason, and been too afraid of the truth to test it.

Now his brother was reaching out to hug him without any soap or salt. “Sammy! You good?”

Sam dutifully performed a few dozen tests before responding. “I’m fine. I just drove out there, had a beer, slept for four hours, turned around and came back.”

Dean nodded, but not as though he believed a word of it. His eyes scanned Sam, and even though the hug was finished, one of his brother’s hands still clutched his arm. “Good, good. Get in the car, we’re going.”

Even once they were back on he highway, his brother’s eyes locked on Sam far too often for safe driving, and a maniacal grin twisted his lips. “This is the best thing in the world, huh Sam? You and me and Baby on the open road.”

“Yeah, it’s nice.” It was also very nearly what Dean had said months ago, before bad blood and confederate specters and secret would-have-been-better brothers came between them.

“Sorry again for sending you off. I probably… I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I mean, vampires aren’t the kind of thing you hunt unless you’re sure your head’s screwed on straight.”

“…What?” Dean wasn’t honestly trying to pull the hell-trauma card, was he?

“I mean, after I left, you went pretty off the rails. I just wanted to give you a breather, you know?”

“Most people consider moving in with the woman you love further on the rails than hunting monsters with your middle-aged brother.”

“Watch it! I’m not middle-aged, I’m…pushing eighty, technically, but I look damn good doing it.” He blinked. “You got a girl? Atta boy, Sammy, I knew you still had it in you.”

Apparently, they were ignoring the gun-waving resentment Dean had displayed towards Amelia since he had first heard of her. “Seriously, Dean, what the hell?”

“Right, right, you said you were through with Texas. It’s probably for the best. Any woman worth making a life with expects you to really be with her, none of the gone-hunting-see-you-in-a-month crap Dad used to pull on us. That’s what broke up Lisa and me; she couldn’t stand waiting to see whether I’d come home. She wanted me in her life, full stop, or she wanted me out of it.

“You never told me that.” He believed Dean’s exact words had been ‘If you ever mention Lisa or Ben to me again, I’ll punch you in the face.’

“I never told you a lot of stuff.” His eyes looked watery and extra-earnest, like any minute he was going to tell Sam he loved him. It was kind of uncomfortable without a context.

“Are we having a moment?”

Dean scoffed. “What? Of course not. What are you talking about? Shut up.”

Sam laughed and settled back in his seat. That was more like it, back to the Winchester rules of the road: driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his-

“Do you want to hook up your iPod thing?”

Sam closed his eyes firmly and pretended to be asleep.

 

* * *

 

Sam came gasping awake at the sound of his brother cursing and the feel of the impala swerving beneath him. He grabbed his knife as he searched for the threat. Instead, he found Castiel in the backseat. He sheathed the blade and smiled. “Hey, man. How’re you doing? How’s Fred?”

“He is…at peace. He returned to heaven. As I can’t go there, I have been wandering the earth answering prayers. I find it satisfying.”

“Cas! I never thought I’d see…how are you?” Dean chimed in.

“I am satisfied. My emotional wellbeing hasn’t changed since Sam asked. Was it supposed to?” Castiel seemed to turn to Sam for guidance.

“Don’t mind Dean, Cas. We had a fight while you were gone, and that always throws him off kilter. We’re glad you checked in with us.” His brother nodded fervently.

Anyone who talked about the power of Sam’s ‘puppy dog look’ had obviously never seen Dean’s. Sitting there, looking between Castiel in the back and Sam in the seat beside him, it was like he was a kid on Christmas morning, staring at presents under the tree and still not quite believing Santa had decided he was a good boy. It was heartbreaking, and incredibly confusing under the circumstances. “Dean?”

“Yeah.” Dean coughed, and made an obvious effort to pull himself together, taking a large inhale through his nose that sounded snotty enough to be a sniffle. “Yeah, Sam, I’m good. Hey, did I ever tell you guys thanks for looking after each other while I was gone?”

Sam shared a what-the-fuck face with Castiel. Or rather, Sam made a what-the-fuck face while the angel invoked his deeply-furrowed-brow-of-befuddlement. They turned back to Dean, who awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

“Sorry. Chick flick, I know. It’s just,” he finally pulled over and put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, “I’m glad you weren’t in Purgatory with me.”

“I was.” Castiel ignored the hand in favor of peering at Dean like he was a can of soup with the ingredients listed in a particularly small font.

Dean gave him a twitchy smile. “Oh. Right, I know. I meant, I’m glad I managed to hold onto you through the portal.”

“You didn’t.”

“Then how did you get out?”

“With difficulty.” Done with the conversation, Castiel turned to Sam. “Samandriel has been captured. I need your help to rescue him.” ‘Your help’ probably would have included both Winchesters, if Dean hadn’t been…whatever Dean was being.

“Samandriel sounds like an angel name. Did you patch things up with the Tool Brigade?”

“No. I am acting alone.”

“Good for you. Who’s powerful enough to capture angels these days? I mean, with the demons and leviathan gone. Maybe the alpha vamp? He did say we hadn’t seen the last of him.”

Castiel stared at Dean for another long moment before laying a hand on Sam’s arm.

 

* * *

 

Sam blinked a few times to adjust to the change in lighting, it had been evening a moment ago but now seemed closer to noon. “You said this happens every time you two fight?” Castiel asked. “Why haven’t I noticed it before?”

They seemed to be someplace hot and arid, near a fountain of some sort. Dean was notably absent. Sam shook his head and turned to the question. “Normally it’s more subtle, but yeah. Every single time we separate. Once, he left me a voicemail saying I was a blood-sucking monster. He calls it his Hallmark Message of Brotherly Love. Non-ironically.”

Castiel shifted uncomfortably. “That does sound unpleasant. Still, you may not have the whole story, having been apart. Maybe there are reasons behind Dean’s … eccentricities?”

“After the time I got caught by redneck cannibals, Dean had me research vitiligo.” Castiel tilted his head. “It’s a medical condition that…”

“... Causes depigmentation of the skin, yes, I know. I don’t understand why Dean would have you research it.”

“I don’t either, believe me. When I asked he just told me to shut up about it.” Sam sighed and sat down on the edge of the fountain. Looking and listening to the people around him, he was fairly certain that Castiel had taken him to Africa. He’d always wanted to see another continent. So far, it looked a bit like Utah. “And then there was the time with the djin. Dean made me find a lawn mower so he could run over the body before he’d let us salt and burn it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a lawn mower in a warehouse district? Weed-whackers, sure, but those weren’t good enough for my brother.”

“Ah.”

“And that time with the vetalas he got all cheerful. Not that I wanted him to be sad, but for weeks after Bobby died he was…a wreck. Then I almost get eaten by a monster sex-worker, and Dean starts smiling and laughing at stupid things, like my near-death experience made everything okay again.”

“Sam.”

“And then a few weeks later, when we get separated by the time god, he starts having nightmares about kissing Bobby. Weird, right?”

“Sam.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…I could never tell Amelia anything important, and Dean’s been mad at me since he got back. I just feel like I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

“You should talk to Dean.”

Sam paused to take in Castiel’s body language, most notably the hand raised towards his forehead. “Hey, Cas, do you really think my voice is grating?”

Castiel lowered his hand for a moment, eyes sad. “All angels do. It’s not your fault.” He raised the hand again. “You should talk to your brother. Call me when you have dealt with your ‘issues.’”

 

* * *

 

Sam felt Castiel’s fingers on his forehead and blinked a few times to readjust to the evening light. “Sam! Thank God! Where’s Cas?”

“He said to call once we’d dealt with our… Dean? What happened to your shirt?”

“Nothing. Where did you go?”

“Africa, I think. Why is your shirt ripped?”

“Umm… must’ve been on a hunt? Why’d you go to Africa?”

“To get away from you. Your shirt was fine before I left. Come on, Dean, we weren’t separated for more than two minutes. You can’t develop a new neurosis every time we separate for two minutes; you wouldn’t be functional.”

Dean put on his stubborn face, the I-won’t-talk-and-you-can’t-make-me one. Sam sighed. If this were almost any other time, he would keep pushing, but Castiel’s friend was in danger, so Sam swallowed his irritation and took a stab in the dark. “Are you having some memory trouble?” By the way Dean brightened and leaned back in relief, Sam knew he’d gone wide of his mark, but let Dean get away with it. Sometimes it sucked being the more mature brother.

“Yeah, you caught me, one of the vampires got me on the noggin, really messed me up. In the name of hurrying this along so that we can help Cas with his little problem, do you think you could…”

“Sure, man.”

“Thanks. So…”

“…Yeah?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“At the beginning, obviously.”

“Well, In The Beginning, God was lonely so He created the angels, but Eve said that the reason she could stop angel powers was because He made her before that.  She was in charge of purgatory, though, which was created to lock out the leviathan, because they kill angels, which wouldn’t have been an issue before angels existed. I think she was lying, but maybe she was around before purgatory and just got relocated-”

“Cute. I thought you said you’d help me.”

“And I will, just as soon as you ask a question.”

“Why’d you give up on me?” Sam immediately tensed, but there was something in Dean’s expression, eyes startled like the words had come out without his permission. “Never mind. I mean, did Garth really-”

“I thought it was like the Colt,” he blurted out before either of them lost their nerve.

“What?”

“I thought the bone was like the Colt, or Ruby’s knife. The demons we kill, they’re not sent back to hell: that’s what exorcisms are for, and anyway, they’d just get out again. When we kill a demon, it’s gone, forever.” His voice was quiet, he knew, but he worried what it would sound like if it were louder. “And the people the demons are wearing when we stab them don’t go to hell either. Do they? I don’t even remember how many people we’ve killed with that knife. They can’t all have gone to hell, Dean.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I always figured they went to heaven, or maybe just…stopped being.”

“What’s this got to do with anything?”

“I thought the bone was the same. If I’d realized, I would have…I didn’t think you were in trouble anymore.” He ducked his head. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t look. I did some research, took some notes in Dad’s journal. But then someone emailed, never found out who, to let me know the genocide creamer was being beta-tested at a Starbucks in New York. Do you know how many Starbucks there are in New York? But I found the right one. I took care of it. Then it was just the corn-syrup processing factory in Texas. All the leviathan were dead when I got there. I think vampires got there before me.”

“So no more leviathan or death cream or stupid-syrup. Alright. That’s when Kevin called you?”

“No. I mean, he did, like a week later, but I didn’t know he would. If I had, I would’ve helped him. Believe me Dean; if I knew about the tablet back then, I would’ve tried to close the hell gates, paid the demons back for what they did to our family. I would’ve given it everything I had.” _Everything I had left_.

“Oh, I believe you,” Dean muttered; only he must not have meant it, because he sounded furious.

Sam finished anyway. “I read about what sounded like a hunt a few towns over, but on my way there, I hit a dog and well, you know the rest.”

“You got arrested?”

“No! I took him to the vet! They don’t prosecute you for hitting an animal unless it was on purpose. Honestly, Dean, for someone born and raised in this country, you have some strange cultural gaps.”

“Well, excuse me, I’ve never made unintentional road-kill before. When I drive her, Baby manages not to ram into anything under 150 lbs. Was this a very big dog? Or are you just a very bad driver?”

“Screw you.”

“Because it could be that you just never got enough practice. I blame myself, really.”

“Does this mean you’re letting me drive more?”

“And risk my Baby to your ham-handed fumbles? Think again. Besides, don’t you have a driving phobia now?”

“I just drove to Kermit and back.”

“Right. So you didn’t get a phobia, you didn’t get arrested. Why does it even matter that you hit a dog?”

“Well for one thing, it matters to the dog, jerk.”

“Bitch.” Dean frowned. “Hey, Sam, when you said you found a girl to settle down with, you didn’t mean…”

“The dog’s name is Riot, and it’s a he.”

“I don’t judge.”

“Bestiality jokes, nice. Very mature.”

“So where does the love of a good woman fit in all this?”

“She was the vet who took care of the dog. She guilted me into keeping him.”

“Because what every dog needs after major surgery is extreme sport road tripping?”

“She was just shooting her mouth off. She gets like that sometimes, and she’d been going through some stuff. At the time, though, it was… I needed it. Everyone was gone; the leviathan were gone. The morning after the crash, I read the papers and it turned out my hunt a few towns over was only a teenage prank gone wrong. It just seemed like Riot was the only one who needed me anymore. So I turned off my phones. I stayed on at the motel doing repairs, and they were really nice about me having a dog, and I ran into Amelia again and we hit it off…”

“A vet who hands out dogs to the men who ran them over? I thought you went for smart chicks.”

“She’s a functional alcoholic with a hard on for yelling at me about the same things over and over. Guess I must’ve missed you.”

“ _Dude!_ ”

“You started it.”

“I was having fun. You’re being a bitch. There’s a difference.”

“It’s not much different on my end. This whole memory lane thing, I thought you were finally giving me a chance to explain, but it’s just another round of you ragging on my 'choices.' Don’t you ever get tired of telling me how wrong I am?”

“Whoa, easy cowboy. Considering you _just finished_ telling me that you were done with her, I figured you could use a little good-natured ribbing of the ex, but _clearly_ I was mistaken. Yeesh.”

“Amelia and I’ve been broken up since before you got back. When have I ever appreciated your ‘good-natured ribbing?’ In fact, I remember saying that if you didn’t leave off her, I’d be finding my own ride.”

“I said I’m sorry already. Besides, it’s not like I hurt her feelings; I don’t think she can hear me from a state over. We good?” Sam reluctantly nodded. “You’d really drop me over a girl you’re not even with anymore? Sammy?” He looked so hurt that Sam found himself relenting.

“It wasn’t really about Amelia. It was about you blaming me for what I did soulless, when ever since I woke up in the panic room you’ve been saying it wasn’t my fault. It was how you brought up Ruby, after swearing on Rufus’s grave that we were good. Then you said I left you,” _to die_ , “over a girl, like I got distracted by sex with a random hookup and forgot to have your back. It was just…I thought you believed in me, at least a little.”

“I do. A lot. What your body did when you were in the cage, that’s not your fault, and Ruby…well, yeah, that was stupid, but everybody makes mistakes and when it comes to cleaning up your messes, you kinda went above and beyond. We’re good, honest.”

“You’re saying it wasn’t you?” ‘The specter made me say it’ seemed like a pretty weak argument, except that they accepted ‘the demon made me do it’ almost every other week.

“I’m saying it wasn’t either of us.” Whatever that meant.

Sam sighed. He might have caught a flash of something shiny under Dean’s newly-ripped shirt, but decided to ignore it for the moment. Right now, they had an angel to rescue.

It still wasn’t the weirdest reunion they’d ever had, Sam reflected, remembering a torched pile comprised of every stitch of white clothing he owned, underwear included. Dean would get over it. He always did.


End file.
